Rub it out
by Zer0Crash79
Summary: Dennis raised his right hand and started scratching at the black ink on his forehead, the cause of his ridicule, and decided to just wash the damn thing off.


Dennis never really held strong opinions for North Dakota before, but since he was currently dealing with the 3rd round of obnoxious teenagers laughing at him, now he did.

"North Dakota is a shitstain state." Dennis muttered darkly.

Dennis leaned his back harder into the airport chair in hopes of catching some z's before his flight arrived, but North Dakota and its plentiful flocks of teenaged fucks were making it impossible. Dennis wanted to just go over to the current flock of teenagers and destroy them. Maybe cause the girls to fall hopelessly in love with him and feel like fools for laughing at him, like they should, and make the guys feel inferior due to his natural charm, like they should.

But after today, he's not feeling it. He's not feeling any heat today.

Dennis raised his right hand and started scratching at the black ink on his forehead, the cause of his ridicule, and decided to just wash the damn thing off. He was going to use it to make any hot woman that he decided to fuck on the plane think that it was from some cruel and demeaning joke that his friends did to him, so they would give him some sympathy sex, but he wasn't really "feeling" it today.

Dennis got up from his seat and made his way through waves of human trash before him, making sure to make as little contact as possible with them.

Once he made it through the bathroom door he made a quick glance around, and noticed there were a few other occupants. Rolling his eyes and wishing to get this over with before one of these savages unloaded their brown cannons, he made a quick walk over to the closest sink.

After wrapping his left hand over the heat faucet in a hasty manner, Dennis took a good look at himself.

"Goddammit, Mac."

Dennis shook his head in contempt at the number drawn on his forehead. "Did you really have to make it that big?" Dennis said with feigned curiosity. "Of course I do!" Dennis shouted, imitating what probably would have been Mac's response. The other occupants of the bathroom were shaken by the sudden shout, but continued their business anyway.

Dennis placed his hands in the stream of hot water flowing from the faucet before him, and began rubbing the ink hard. Noticing that the ink wasn't coming off, Dennis started rubbing harder until his forehead was nearly bloody red. The rubbing was clearly not working and Dennis was ready to just peel his own skin off.

"For fucks sake! Get out! Get out! Get out!" Dennis' screeching, followed by his frantic bouts of jumping up and down with each "get out", caused all the other occupants to leave immediately. Dennis noticing the noise of scurrying feet, turned around to see that he's alone, Dennis simply shrugged and made an off-hand comment about how North Dakotans are "Unhygienic savages" for not cleaning their hands on the way out.

Dennis returned his focus on the problem at hand and pinched his inked skin, stretching it in hopes of seeing some skin through it, but seeing nothing but the same pitch black hue that scarred his absolutely perfect image.

Just absolutely scarred it.

Dennis repeated this thought over and over until he began seeing the future that it implied.

He could no longer call himself the golden god, he would forever walk the earth as a mere shell. Just another silver shell walking through life with a crack that everyone could see. A crack that everyone could laugh at.

And they would be right to laugh…

Dennis grabbed the nearest bottle of soap and squeezed its contents out on the top of his forehead recklessly and placed his head right underneath the faucet, letting the extremely hot water douse him. He then pulled his head from underneath the faucet quickly once he felt it was good enough and began rubbing his forehead once again, or in this case, clawing at his face in a cathartic manner.

Dennis reveled at this, he was going to get that scar off, he had to, he was feeling far too much for his efforts to be in vain.

Dennis took one last look at the mirror and found himself pleased.

The blemish was gone.

Dennis Reynold's had once again shown the world that he was the only power allowed to thrust itself upon him.

Taking a few minutes to calm himself after his conquest, Dennis took a quick look at his phone and realized that he still had some time before his plane left. He could probably still catch a nap. Dennis stared deeply into his reflection in the mirror and realized that coming out with his face so bloody red would probably get him ridiculed, they wouldn't see it as a symbol of his mind conquering his flesh, of course they wouldn't. They are after all just silver shells with countless cracks on their exterior and interior forms.

What would they know about real accomplishment?

Real perfection?

Dennis took another glance around his surroundings and remembered his current situation. He was alone, he had a room to himself, and he had some to time to kill.

Dennis tossed a quick wink at his reflection and entered the nearest stall.

Time to rub one out.


End file.
